


Numbers on your wrist

by Fabulous_Fanboy



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: AU, F/M, M/M, Minor humour elements, Modern/Dystopian, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-22
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 15:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1147559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fabulous_Fanboy/pseuds/Fabulous_Fanboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set a few hundred years from the main storyline, in a world where the walls serve a different purpose.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I really would like to know whether the idea is worth continuing, hence why the first chapter is just a prologue.

1128, a few hundred years after the complete and utter eradication of Titans.

The world now is quite different. Technology is much like what we have, but everyone has something that is similar to an LCD screen embedded into their skin.  
Why?  
Simple. After the Titans were killed off, and humans expanded their territory, civil wars began to break out, both within and without the walls. A century and a half passed, the population of the world hitting close to 1.6 million. Then a massive conspiracy involving the King happened. The gates were promptly shut, all citizens living outside were left to do as they might.

Twenty years later, an army was sent out to check on them, only to find most had died off from food shortages.

Meanwhile, the government, using it's newfound technologies, created a way to keep the population inside the walls at a stable level. The Time Watchers.

They display an eight number digit, which is for knowing how far down a person is on the List. The List is how the government controls the citizens, with fear. If a person's number reaches zero, they die. Stop breathing, utterly dead. TW's are connected to the nerves thus, with a quick pulse of a new drug, all nerves deaden and shut down.

However, it is well known that if you work for the government, your number is stalled- perhaps permanently...


	2. Boy on the doorstep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Should have pointed this out earlier; sort of reincarnation, that's how everyone is linked.

It was a crisp Sunday morning, the air cold enough to make one shiver, but warm enough that you didn't need anything heavier than a woollen jumper.  
Sun glinted off the windows of the high-rise buildings further into Trost, in the newer 'rich but not rich' middle class area.

Levi stood at a window, watching people pass his house. They trundled past in cars, on bikes, even a few out jogging. He sighed, lifting the cup of tea to his lips, revelling in the warmth of the liquid.

Sundays were the only day off he had, and he usually spent those days cleaning- and cooking, lounging around... suffering from immense boredom. And memories he understood vaguely.

He heard his phone ring but didn't bother moving from his spot, not even flinching. He simply let it go to voice mail and listened to the prompt message.

_"Hi, Levi! I know you're awake, you always get up at six. I've known you long enough, huh? Well, Erwin and I are going out to dinner tonight and well... I was wondering if you'd like to tag along? There's a woman I think you'd like... I'll call back later, bye~!"_

Levi pursed his lips, focusing back on his tea.  
How many times would it take for Hanji to realise that his words of 'I don't date. I hate people.' were true?  
Finishing the last dregs, he concluded the woman would never, ever catch on.

He scratched the back of his neck.  
It was seven thirty. Glancing back outside, he quietly yawned and decided his body needed some exercise, so he pulled on a pair of shoes, shrugged on a jumper over his singlet and grabbed his keys and phone before proceeding to open the door.

He stopped.

There, upon his doorstep was a boy. More correctly, a young man. He was asleep, by the looks of it, and dressed in a thin long sleeved shirt and a badly patched up pair of jeans. Upon his feet were a definitely homemade pair of moccasins. His hair was a messy brown, arranged around his face haphazardly. The kid was curled up, head resting on the mat, breaths coming in short pants from parted lips.

Levi could see straight away that he was sick. Guilt gnawing away at him, he carried him inside and laid the boy on the lounge. The nearest proper hospital was three hours away, and there was no way in hell Levi was driving that far for some stranger, especially what looked to be a brat.

'He doesn't look too bad, though...'

A groan left the kid's lips, eyes flickering open briefly.  
"Need... Help..."

"I can see that, brat." Levi muttered, checking his temperature before retrieving a bundle of blankets from his linen closet, dumping them then arranging them on top of the brunette.

Who was looking around groggily.  
"Wha's y'ur name?" he mumbled.

"What's your's?"

"Eren... Jaeger..."

Levi's eyes snapped back to bore into the one who had identified himself as Eren Jaeger.  
'Surely not...'

"Interesting..." Levi left to boil the kettle again, returning with a cup which he quietly gave to Eren, whom seemed more awake now, "Levi. Levi Rivaille."

"Mr. Riva-"

"Levi." He corrected, shaking his head slightly. Eren placed the cup down on the coffee table, settling back into the plush leather couch.

"Nice to meet you, Levi... Thank you. Where is here?"

The question made Levi snort.  
"Trost, not quite within Wall Rose. Are you stupid or something..." he looked back at Eren and sighed.  
The other was asleep again, one arm draped across his chest.

Something caught Levi's eye as he studied the slumbering boy.  
Small scars marred his arms and cheek, just below his eye sockets. But there was something definitely strange about his arm.

Levi glanced at his own, shuddering at the sight of the softly flickering digits on his wrist- 1,344,789.

That was it, he realised, looking back at Eren.

The boy didn't have a Time Watcher, no numbers flashed or flickered on that tanned wrist.


	3. Rush

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Characters: Jean and Marco._

Three kilometres away, and eight hours before, music thrummed through the air.  
Bodies gyrated to the beat, the air full of the strong smell of sweaty flesh and hormones.

Jean pushed through the throng, following a dark haired boy who turned to him once they had reached the edge and leaned close.

"Jean... The reason why I said yes to coming to this party was because I thought it was time I told you something." Marco looked down, swallowing nervously, "I like you, have l-!"

Jean pressed his lips firmly to Marco's, whom quickly relaxed into the kiss, looping his arms around the dual-toned brunet's neck.

"About fucking time." Jean whispered as they broke away and smiled at each other.

The music faded slightly and was replaced by the host of the party's- Connie's- voice; "Food's ready, guys!"

A cheer went up and people shuffled off to get food and drinks, but Marco and Jean remained on the dance floor, looking at each other.

"You hungry?"

"Not really... Wanna dance?"

"Sure."

And so they danced slowly, though somewhat awkwardly, both unsure of how to go about everything.

Both utterly unaware of the sudden flicker of numbers on their wrists.

A scream from the kitchen was their warning. Exchanging a look, the duo hurried along with a few others to the large dining area, trying to work out what was happening.

"Mine went down thirty!"

"Same here..."

"Yeah."

Everything seemed to go in slow-mo. People's eyes glazed over. It was like a dream gone wrong; surely, those numbers hadn't changed.

But they had. All by thirty-two, and slowly counting. The numbers flickered every so often.

"A-anyone under 10?"

There was silence, then a quiet "5." left Marco's lips. All eyes turned to him. His lightly tanned skin paled under the freckles and his dark brown eyes were wide.

He refused to look at Jean.

_4_

He glanced up at the ceiling.

_3_

He dropped his arm to his side, closing his eyes with a shaking sigh for a moment before he opened them again and looked to Jean, leaning close to kiss him.  
"Jean. I love you."

_2_

"H-how..."

"It was forty this morning. Smile for me, please?"

Jean licked his lips, forcing a smile. Marco smiled back kissing him again.

_1_

"Please... Don't."

"Hold me."

The minutes passed. Jean could hear the ticking of the clock loud in his ears as he sat with Marco on the lounge, the taller boy's legs draped over his lap. They sat in silence, they all did. No one understood, all were confused.

_0_

Marco's body grew rigid for a second then he slouched into Jean, a sharp exhale leaving him.

All was silent.


End file.
